Because it’s Sunday, guess it’s time for Single White Female: Quasi-Incest Edition!

A Reddit user named zennaconvolutia posted a story about her fiance and his relationship with his sister (more below), and while nothing else but the post itself can attest as to whether it’s actually real, it might be the site’s Internet-age answer to those weird sibling-on-sibling vibes in “The House of Usher.”

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So now the Internet, like zennaconvolutia, wants to know: are these people doing the incest or no?

The paragraphs-long entry details the relationship between poster and “Rob,” who has two sisters, “Sarah,” and “Rachel.” While Rachel at first seems to be the problem—her “likes include crack cocaine and hand tattoos, and her dislikes are employment, common courtesy, and showering regularly”—it turns out that Sarah is the point of contention between the couple.

“Right up until about 3 days after we’d moved in, when husband started talking about how lonely sister was with him ‘so far away’, and he was afraid that because of her history of depression that he feels guilty for ‘abandoning her’, and he asked me if she could move in with us.”

Even though the poster is able to come up with a compromise—instead of moving in, the sister visits on weekends—it does nothing to curtail some decidingly odd fucking behavior, including two grown siblings kicking the fiancee out of her own room to sleep in the same bed, leaving her to screw her back up while more or less taking up permanent residence on the living room couch.

“For the next several months, Sarah would arrive at our place Friday afternoon, usually while we were both still at work, let herself in, and amuse herself until Rob got home. The two of them would go into the city for dinner/drinks, and sometimes a show or other activity, and they would come back sometime after I’d already gone to sleep. The first night she just slept on our sofa, but the next night Rob said that it made her neck a little stiff, and since she was the guest I should let her sleep in our bed, and stay on the couch myself.”

Nononononononononono. V.C Andrews launched the thousand miniseries about this story, and they all do not end well. They end in pneumonia and homicide.

After four months of co-habitation, wherein Bro and Sis phase the poster completely out of their lives by regularly peacing the fuck out at sunup and ignoring her until they come home, she finally confronts Rob about it—and again, they agree to a compromise with bi-monthly visits and some healthy boundaries. Problem solved, right?

No. Of course not. Not with a wedding right around the corner. Sarah starts to infiltrate every facet of planning the nuptials, like getting Rob to reschedule the date without consulting the bride-to-be, changing the entire meal plan, and eventually stealing the spot as her maid-of-honor.

BUT THEN:

“To make matters worse, she sent a pic of the dress she bought, and it’s a fucking wedding gown! In fact, it is nearly identical to my dress. It is the same cut, in a slightly darker shade of white (she swears it’s “blush”, but it looks fucking white to me), with the addition of extra beads and sequins on the bust.”

Girl loses it, once again goes to Rob, because the first five million red flags and fifty accompanying flare guns weren’t enough:

“He said that I was ‘trying to control everything’, and ‘jealous of his sister’. Then he called me a bunch of names and said that Sarah had warned him years ago that I wouldn’t understand their bond and I would try to drive a wedge between them, but he always defended me, and now here I was proving her right. He quickly grabbed a few things and stormed off to his mother’s house, where he’s been ever since.”

And in case you were wondering whether it wasn’t completely obvious that incesting things were happening with a garnish of incest, here is a post-script from zennaconvolutia in the comments:

“It wasn’t exactly just that he didn’t feel like it during those 4 months, more like there was just never time and it never seemed to bother him enough to want to work with me to make time.

Like, most of the time our schedules don’t allow enough time for weekday sex (he hates quickies because they ‘feel dirty’, and he is kind of anal about making sure he gets his full 8 hours every night), so most weeks we get freaky on weekends. Weekends are supposed to be sex time. But he refused to even attempt to squeeze in sex while she was visiting, and slept with her the whole time anyway. Every time I brought up the lack of intimacy he acted like he hadn’t even noticed, which didn’t feel great.”

Redditor, GET OUT OF THAT CRAZY before Grandma Olivia starts poisoning you with arsenic donuts.